


A Long Way to Fall

by Rosage



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Babies, Gen, Pre-Canon, Puberty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 14:52:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8289790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosage/pseuds/Rosage
Summary: Lady Sakura is born, and Saizo the Fifth meets his match.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to all who previewed this. It was written a couple of months ago and posted upon request.

Growing up in the mountains should have made Saizo accustomed to heights. He always scoffs at those who fear they’ll fall; during training he’s claimed peaks and slept against cliff faces, always in full control of his body, never considering _down_ an option. After that, the steps leading up to Castle Shirasagi are easily scaled.

Or so he tells himself.

After several visits to the castle, he assumed he’d be over this. But that familiar nausea is taking root, even though he eschewed the oil-drenched food of the capital streets. The castle isn’t as tall as the mountains, but it’s grander. His village’s foggy mornings and the caves he trains in haven’t prepared him for the way the sun reflects off the vibrant exterior, and he gets the feeling that even if he were to stand on the roof, it would still tower above him.

Kaze’s silent steps behind him propel him upward. The first time he walked this path, eyes glued to the steps, he tried in vain to calm himself with the mantra, _I’m Saizo the Fifth._ Now he looks up enviously at the samurai guarding the palace and thinks, _this is what I would die for_.

Inside, he notes the places an enemy that snuck in could conceal themselves, searching for invisible eyes. The palace’s inner surfaces have been scrubbed clean, a duty he’s not sure his hands could fulfill. The matte finish gives the illusion of gleaming thanks to lamps that burn with an unnatural luminescence. It’s Orochi’s magic, or a similar diviner’s, and Saizo squints away from both its blinding quality and the memory of her other powers. The fate she warned him of has yet to pass; he’s decided she made a mistake, if only because he could never admit fear to his father. He doubts his father would have sent Saizo to represent him this time if he had. Regardless, he blames Orochi for the fact that his throat is drier than his hands when he and Kaze stop in front of the throne room’s sliding doors.

They wait silently. Saizo unclasps his hands to tug at his sleeves, earning a warning glance from Kaze. They were fitted for the clothing fortnights ago, and while approaching his coming-of-age Saizo’s muscles have been in a race with his limbs to bulk before they can go gangly like his twin’s. It doesn’t help that Saizo quit halfway through his fitting, but while he has some pride and curiosity about a new addition to the family he’ll serve, he wasn’t excited for this visit. In fact, it irritated him to leave his training to meet an infant who can’t speak, won’t later recognize him, doesn’t yet have anything to offer but potential.

Despite his impatience, he’s not ready when they are summoned into the chamber, though a ninja is nothing if not swift to answer a call. The throne room’s light is even more blinding than that of the hallway. He anticipates getting scolded for screwing up his face, even covered as most of it is, in audience with his lieges. He hides it further by dropping onto his knees alongside Kaze, heads low to the ground by Lady Mikoto’s feet. With her approval, they move on down the line.

He’s surprised Lord Ryoma isn’t out with Lord Sumeragi, and further surprised that Lord Ryoma isn’t struggling to keep his limbs proportional and toned. For a moment Saizo feels hot with what he can only assume is unworthiness, though he doesn’t get the same feeling from bowing to the other royal children, or from the throne’s heavy presence atop the steps.

After Saizo presents gifts for good fortune in his father’s name, Lady Mikoto takes the baby from Reina and beckons. “Please, you can’t look upon her while casting your eyes at the ground. Stand—isn’t she beautiful?”

“As beautiful as a cherry orchard in bloom,” Kaze murmurs. Saizo holds back a snort. He’s startled to realize he’s grown taller than Lady Mikoto as he dips his chin to peer into his newest lady’s face.

Is she beautiful? The shock of red hair sticking out from beneath her swaddling does accentuate the color of her cheeks, but otherwise Saizo sees only a chubby face with large eyes that unnerve him by fixing upon his. He breaks the contact, bowing just enough for his head to hover below Lady Mikoto’s elbow. “I am honored to be in your service, Lady Sakura.”

It’s a wonder his voice, not quite dropped, doesn’t break from his attempt at a city accent. When he rises, those eyes are still boring into him. For a foolish moment he feels they can see through his mask, past new muscle to the trembling boy. He returns the stare with his throat more parched than it was on the mission where his father forbade he drink.

Lady Mikoto sweeps her gaze between the twins. Saizo hopes he imagines the twinkle in it when she holds Lady Sakura out to him—he, who earlier that fortnight botched reconnaissance training and slit a guard’s throat. He wants to protest that those hands _can’t_ hold a baby, let alone a baby mistress, but the memory of his father’s voice pulls the words back in.

_Never deny them._

His arms feel gangly when Lady Mikoto places the little lady inside.

“Support her neck,” Kaze whispers. Hastily Saizo rearranges her, her head lolling against his elbow. She can’t possibly have bones, he thinks, promptly picturing himself breaking all of them by dropping her onto the floor.

It’s such a short way to fall, but he finally understands that fear.

“Our little flower barely fusses,” Lady Mikoto says. Spittle burbles between Lady Sakura’s lips, and Saizo thinks, _this is what I will die for_.

“As expected,” he says. “I will protect her with my life.”

A hand emerges from the cloth, clenching and unclenching. Busy wondering at the tiny fingers and the lack of tension in their movements, he doesn’t notice their reach until they’ve dragged his mask down to his neck.

The room is silent. Lady Sakura tugs, straining Saizo’s neck until his nose guard pops off. She waves her prize, the symbol of his defeat, in front of his chin.

Lady Mikoto’s laughter rings like a bell foretelling execution. A rumble joins it, and Saizo realizes with horror that _Lord Ryoma_ is laughing. Saizo didn’t know Orochi was there—perhaps she isn’t really—but her giggling punctures him while Kaze, ever a dutiful and frustrating brother, tries to hide a smile. It does not stem the furious burning of Saizo’s exposed skin.

If it were anyone else, Saizo would have erupted. But Lady Sakura’s hand drops limp against his chest, and he remembers his place, the lineage he’s representing. With a cough he forces himself to face Lady Mikoto.

“Never have I faced such a clever opponent, milady,” he says—entirely in earnest, though the laughter enters a second round.


End file.
